“Look, I can’t afford to support you.” When she looked back at him, her eyes were moist and angry. “Things were going so well,” she said.
Winder was stunned. Was she seriously worried about the money? “Nina, there’s a man dead. Don’t you understand? I can’t work for a murderer.”
“Stop it!” She shook the legal pad in front of his nose. “You know what I’ve been working on? Extra scripts. The other girls like my stuff so much they offered to buy, like, two or three a week. Twenty-five bucks each, it could really add up.”
“That’s great.” He was proud of her, that was the hell of it. She’d never believe that he could be proud of her.
Pen in mouth, Nina said: “I wrote about an out-of-body experience. Like when you’re about to die and you can actually see yourself lying there—but then you get saved at the very last minute. Only my script was about making love, about floating out of yourself just as you’re about to come. Suspended in air, I looked down at the bed and saw myself shudder violently, my fingernails raking across your broad tan shoulders. I gave it to the new girl, Addie, and she tried it Friday night. One guy, she said, he called back eleven times.”
“Is that a new record?”
“It just so happens, yes. But the point is, I’m looking at a major opportunity. If I start selling enough scripts, maybe I can get off the phones. Just stay home and write—wouldn’t that be better?”
“Sure would.” Winder put his arm around her. “You can still do that, honey. It would be great.”
“Not with you sitting here every day. Playing your damn Warren Zevon.”
“I’ll get another job.”
“No, Joe, it’ll be the same old shit.” She pulled away and got up from the floor. “I can’t write when my life is in turmoil. I need a stabilizer. Peacefulness. Quiet.”
Winder felt wounded. “For God’s sake, Nina, I know a little something about writing. This place is plenty quiet.”
“There is tension,” she said grimly, “and don’t deny it.”
“Writers thrive on domestic tension. Look at Poe, Hemingway—and Mailer in his younger days, you talk about tense.” He hoped Nina would appreciate being included on such an eminent roster, but she didn’t. Impatiently he said, “It isn’t exactly epic literature, anyway. It’s phone porn.”
Her expression clouded. “Phone porn? Thanks, Joe.”
“Well, Christ, that’s what it is.”
Coldly she folded her arms and leaned against one of the tall speakers. “It’s still writing, and writing is hard work. If I’m going to make a go of it, I need some space. And some security.”
“If you’re talking about groceries, don’t worry. I intend to pull my own weight.”
Nina raised her hands in exasperation. “Where can you find another job that pays so much?”
Joe Winder couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Why the sudden anxiety? The laying on of guilt? If he’d known he was in for a full-blown argument, he indeed would have put on some pants.
Nina said, “It’s not just the money. I need someone reliable, someone who will be here for me.”
“Have I ever let you down?”
“No, but you will.”
Winder didn’t say anything because she was absolutely correct; nothing in his immediate plans would please her.
“I know you,” Nina added, in a sad voice. “You aren’t going to let go of this thing.”
“Probably not.”
“Then I think we’re definitely heading in different directions. I think you’re going to end up in jail, or maybe dead.”
“Have some faith,” Joe Winder said.
“It’s not that easy.” Nina stalked to the closet, flung open the door and stared at the clutter. “Where”d you put my suitcase?”
In the mid-1970s, Florida elected a crusading young governor named Clinton Tyree, an ex-football star and Vietnam War veteran. At six feet six, he was the tallest chief executive in the history of the state. In all likelihood he was also the most honest. When a ravenous and politically connected land-development company attempted to bribe Clinton Tyree, he tape-recorded their offers, turned the evidence over to the FBI and volunteered to testify at the trial. By taking a public stand against such omnipotent forces, Clinton Tyree became something of a folk hero in the Sunshine State and beyond. The faint scent of integrity attracted the national media, which roared into Florida and anointed the young governor a star of the new political vanguard.